Rampant Thoughts
by TheLifeILive
Summary: I'm not thinking about Booth! BB


**Disclaimer - Not mine. **

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Brennan leaned back in her chair and glared at her computer screen. She had been sitting at her office desk for about forty-five minutes and had yet to type a single word of the next chapter of her book. Which was due tomorrow. She also had a mountain of paperwork she could be doing or an article she could finish writing. 

But there she was, turning circles in her desk chair in a state which could only be described as overwhelming boredom. 

She needed a break. 

Where was Booth when she wanted him? He always seemed to show up right when she got down to work, but when she needed a distraction he was nowhere to be found. 

She gave a longing glance at her office door, but it yielded nothing. 

Her fingers slowly began to move of their own accord, typing and then erasing whatever random words popped into her head. **Skull** appeared and then disappeared, followed closely by **tibia, clavicle **and** patella. **

Her mind wandered to her partner and she wondered what he was doing. Was he actually completing his paperwork? Doubtful. Was he in meetings? Maybe he was heading over at this very moment. Why did that make her so darn excited? 

She resolved to make an effort not to feel so happy at the prospect that he could be coming over. What did she care if he decided to stop by? It's not like it mattered to her if he came over with a case, or brought some paperwork for her to sign, or dragged her out for lunch, or stopped by just to talk. Okay, maybe it mattered a little bit, but only because work wasn't being its usual fascinating and time-consuming self. 

Her fingers continued to type away at her keyboard and she watched as one by one the words** dolphin, daisy, daffodil **and **Jupiter** made brief appearances only to be devoured by the cursor as her finger moved to the 'Backspace' button. 

Maybe he was picking up Parker--it was a Friday. Come to think of it, he did have Parker this weekend. He really should be granted more hours with Parker. Why didn't Rebecca let him see his son more often? Booth was a damn good father! Now she was getting herself worked up. 

_Focus Temperance!_

Words continued to flicker on and off her screen as her fingers danced over the letters.**Anthropology, entomology, pathology **and** psychology **all paraded before her eyes until they too suffered the fate of those that had gone before them. 

It was 12:00; he should be here by now. They always ate lunch at 12:00. How hard was it for the man to be punctual? How could her keep her waiting like this? What if she actually was hungry? 

So much for not getting worked up.

This chapter had to get written. She had to write a racy scene though. Her editor was demanding more ….what was the word again? Oh yeah, smut. She had asked her editor how she was supposed to come up with all these 'dirty little scenes,' but her editor had only looked at her incredulously and told her that she really didn't need to look far for inspiration. Whatever that meant. 

Where was Booth? 

Maybe he was in an accident. Maybe he was just caught in traffic. Maybe he had gone to that interview without her! Damn him, always trying to leave her behind! So maybe she was useless in an interrogation, but they were partners! 

She immediately realized how irrational that line of thought had been. Why should she care if he was a bit late, if he was caught in traffic? She was a good friend so obviously she would care if he got in a car accident. Maybe she would care a little bit if he didn't show up; maybe it sort of mattered if she went a day without seeing him.

Why was she thinking about Booth so much? Damn him, she wasn't getting anything done! 

He was probably in a meeting. Cullen was always pulling him into last minute meetings. Why was Cullen so hard on Booth? Just because he bent the rules every once in a while, so what? Just because they didn't always have their paperwork to him the second he wanted it. They were very busy people! Did he think catching murderers was easy? Okay, maybe it was kind of easy, but when you're Booth and Brennan…..

She was vaguely aware that her fingers were still moving as the letters of **Federal Bureau of Investigation, badge, **and** gun **appeared one by one and disappeared in the same fashion. What was the use trying to work now? Here she was trying to write her novel and not think about why her partner was now twenty minutes late. What could be so important? He didn't actually say he'd be here at 12:00, but he was always here at 12:00! Maybe he had a lunch date? 

That thought didn't sit well at all. 

Why? What did she care if Booth went on a date? It wasn't like they had committed themselves to eating lunch together every day. Why then did she feel as if they had?

Her fingers began flying faster over the keys, but she was too caught up in the distress brought on by the thought that Booth could be seeing someone to notice how her fingers were mimicking the frantic pace of he thoughts. 

Besides, who could Booth have a date with? She had seen the new lab tech eyeing him the other day, but….no, couldn't be. Booth wouldn't go on a date and not tell her about it. Would he? Maybe he would. He never told her anything! _It's not like you tell him all that much. _That is completely irrelevant and totally beside the point. I'm thinking about Booth, not me. 

_I'm not thinking about Booth!_

Her head fell into her hands. She was thinking about Booth. 

Suddenly he was there beside her, smiling that damn smile. 

"Sorry I'm late," he sad apologetically. 

Brennan just shrugged, forcing herself to look away like it didn't matter. 

"That's alright, I didn't even notice," she said in a deliberately bland voice. 

He glanced nonchalantly at her screen. _Probably hoping to get a peek at my writing,_ Brennan thought to herself. _Well guess what Booth, I didn't do any writing today._ She paused, and the smug feeling she had gotten from thwarting his plans was replaced with one of foolishness. 

"Thinking about me Bones?" he asked teasingly, drawing her attention back to him. 

Her head popped up at the accuracy of his words and she was sure that shock and alarm were written all over her face. 

"No Booth," she said, calming herself and getting up to grab her coat. "Why would I be thinking about you?"

She had found a plethora of reasons to do so during the last half hour, the number of times she'd had to recall her wayward thoughts was about ten times too many. But there was no way that she was going to explain that to him, especially when _she_ didn't even understand it. 

"Well, I just thought…." said Booth, gesturing to her computer screen. 

She looked over and blushed. 

Her previously blank screen was now completely filled up with the word **Booth, **typed over and over.

"Care to modify your answer?" he asked innocently. 

"Would you believe it was a typing exercise?"

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**I was sitting around the other day watching the snow melt and decided there were much more productive things I could be doing...like writing fluff! Hope you liked it! **


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